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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25033228">the ache of the cold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters'>thewriterofperfectdisasters</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(obviously - this is a modern au), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Figure Skater!Laurent, Hockey player!Damen, Ice Skating, M/M, More tags to be added!, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around, ice hockey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:35:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25033228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a disastrous performance at the Grand Prix final, Laurent splits from his coach and returns home in disgrace to live with his brother and his brother's roommate, Damen. After a heated first meeting, they learn to live with each other... among other things. Between hockey, Damen trying to finish writing his novel, and Laurent attempting to rebuild his reputation with a new coach, will they be able to keep their relationship hidden from Auguste? </p><p>Or will everything come crashing down and leave Laurent's life - and career - in tatters?</p><p>
  <strong>// on hiatus for now :(</strong>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. end/beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello! i've been sitting on this for a while, and now i actually have time to write, so hopefully i'll be posting chapters every few weeks (i have two more ready to go after this one, but i'm not making promises about posting after how <i>last time</i> turned out). chapter count is an estimate, going off what i've planned for, so may be more or less ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ a thank you, as ever, to kodie, who has provided feedback and suggestions since this was a shitty oneshot where they were both hockey players showing off at the rink.</p><p><strong>NB:</strong> i haven't tagged it yet but i also don't want people coming into this unaware so please note this fic will contain mentions, implied, and brief allusions to (attempted) non-con. it <i>does not</i> happen "onscreen" but it is an underlying theme in this fic, so i want you to go in knowing that in case it's a trigger or squick and you don't want to be involved with it. in any case, i will put in the notes of the chapter beforehand when it is discussed more in-depth (aka, still very briefly) and when and where you can skip.</p><p>that being said, i hope you enjoy this! let's all pray i finish it 😬 (also it should go without saying that i've taken a few liberties w skating competitions so don't @ me if things seem out of season or out of place. let's just say i'm reorganising dates.)</p><p>title from one of my own poems (lol)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>I find a certain comfort in</em>
</p>
<p><em>the ache of the cold,</em> </p>
<p>
  <em>the sure solidity of a</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>smooth surface. In the</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>unflinching, unforgiving</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>frigidity, I pull myself in and pull</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>at laces, stiff fibres already</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>stained pink with bloody tribute</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>from a first, eager skate.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p><em>‘This is painful to watch, Hugh,’ </em>the commentator said softly. <em>‘He was perfect in practice leading up to this event, nailing all his jumps, but now he’s having difficulties with all his choreography, his spins, and let’s not talk about his jumps so far in the program.’</em></p>
<p><em>‘That’s right, Sasha,’ </em>Hugh agreed, as the camera panned over an under-rotated jump. <em>‘I can’t imagine what he’s thinking right now, or what his coach is thinking</em><em>.’</em></p>
<p><em>‘Here comes his signature quad toe –’ </em>Sasha sighed. <em>‘Another miss. He’s got to be feeling something awful.’</em></p>
<p><em>‘There goes a double axel, well executed,’ </em>Hugh said, sounding vaguely unimpressed. <em>‘But that’s not what was planned, and this program is really just not going well for him today, Sasha.’</em></p>
<p><em>‘Absolutely right,’ </em>Sasha agreed. <em>‘He was a shoo-in to place, but I doubt he’ll make top five with this performance.’</em></p>
<p>
  <em>‘I think that’s generous. His performance at the short program yesterday was shaky, but it kept him in fourth by the skin of his teeth. After last year’s silver, I wonder if it’s the pressure of improvement that’s gone to his head?’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘I don’t know, Hugh, but he’s just finished his free, and one thing is for sure – he’s not happy.’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘I’m not sure I’ve ever seen so many falls in a Grand Prix final, Sasha.’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘I wonder who will be more upset in the kiss and cry – him or his coach?’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘I think we’re about to find out, as we head to the –’</em>
</p>
<p>‘Why are you watching this?’</p>
<p>Auguste hissed and waved his hand to make Damen move from in front of the TV. ‘Shut up!’</p>
<p>‘I don’t see what the big deal is –’</p>
<p>‘Shut it, Damen!’ Auguste said, leaning forwards from the couch and trying to hear what the skater and his coach were saying in the kiss and cry, despite knowing there wouldn’t be any audio. He was trying to read their lips, but that was difficult when they weren’t facing the camera.</p>
<p>‘Auguste, really –’</p>
<p>‘Damen!’</p>
<p>Damen held his hands up and flopped onto the couch beside his friend, turning his attention to his phone. ‘Okay, whatever.’</p>
<p>
  <em>‘And that’s a very low score, Hugh, not at all what we would’ve expected. He’s in third, with three skaters left to go. Unless the remaining skaters have equally catastrophic programs, it looks like he’s not placing.’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘That was a very calm and collected response in the kiss and cry, though, Sasha. A decent handshake.’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘I’m not entirely sure that’s a good thing, Hugh.’</em>
</p>
<p>‘Oh, he will <em>not </em>be happy with that,’ Auguste muttered. He pursed his lips and pushed off the couch, leaving Damen behind as he headed to his room.</p>
<p>‘Can I change the channel?’</p>
<p>‘Yep!’</p>
<p>‘Cool, thanks man!’ Damen said cheerfully, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. He watched the screen for a moment longer, as the camera panned back to the ice, where another person was preparing to skate. Damen wasn’t sure, but he could’ve sworn that last skater’s name was de Vere.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>‘On <em>one hand</em>,’ Laurent hissed. ‘<em>One hand</em>, I can count the number of times I’ve missed a triple axel in competition since I was <em>seventeen</em>.’</p>
<p>‘I know,’ Auguste said placatingly.</p>
<p>‘<em>Do </em>you?’ Laurent asked, looking sharply into the camera as he continued packing his bags, aggressively throwing things across his hotel room, before coming to pick up his phone to FaceTime his brother properly. ‘Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? I landed three jumps, Auguste! Two singles and a double!’</p>
<p>‘It’s better than nothing.’</p>
<p>‘Don’t you fucking joke right now, I didn’t even get my fucking <em>step sequence </em>done.’</p>
<p>‘I know, I saw.’</p>
<p>‘Auguste, I’m –’ Laurent stopped and sat on the edge of his bed. ‘I’m…’</p>
<p>‘I know.’</p>
<p>‘You don’t, though. You have no idea what this feels like, what my last forty-eight hours have been like,’ Laurent said softly. ‘You have no idea.’</p>
<p>Auguste swallowed and nodded. ‘You’re right, I don’t. I can’t imagine how you feel after any of it.’</p>
<p>‘I’m better than this, I know I am, but things like this just –’</p>
<p>‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence with <em>“things like this just happen” </em>because they don’t, Laurent.’</p>
<p>‘Auguste, I don’t –’ Laurent cut himself off with a shake of his head. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t know what to do now.’</p>
<p>‘What do you want to do?’ Auguste asked. ‘What feels right?’</p>
<p>Laurent blew out a deep breath and glanced towards what must have been the window, going by the glare of light over his face. ‘I want to move home.’</p>
<p>‘Then move home.’</p>
<p>‘I can’t just –’</p>
<p>‘What else are you going to do?’</p>
<p>Laurent snapped his mouth shut and narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m not moving back in with our parents.’</p>
<p>‘That’s fine, I have a couch.’</p>
<p>‘I’m not sleeping on your couch.’</p>
<p>‘…I also have a spare room?’ Auguste offered. ‘You probably need some friends right about now, instead of living alone with your thoughts.’</p>
<p>‘You’re not my friend,’ Laurent said automatically.</p>
<p>‘Fuck off, I am,’ Auguste replied lightly. ‘Besides, I have a roommate!’</p>
<p>‘Brilliant. Is he one of <em>your </em>kind?’</p>
<p>‘My kind?’ Auguste hummed. ‘Straight or a hockey player?’</p>
<p>Laurent raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re not straight, so what does that leave?’</p>
<p>Auguste grinned. ‘Yeah, he plays hockey.’</p>
<p>‘Wonderful.’</p>
<p>‘He’s cute though, so you’ll be fine. Nice ass, too.’</p>
<p>‘I can’t believe you really just suggested you’re straight,’ Laurent fell backwards onto his bed, leaving his phone to face directly up at the ceiling. ‘It won’t take me long to organise my apartment and have everything sent home. I’ll probably be there in a week.’</p>
<p>‘That’s fine, gives me a while to emotionally prepare Damen for all the insults you’ll probably throw at him,’ Auguste said, noting his brother’s uncharacteristically long silence. ‘Laurent, are you okay?’</p>
<p>Laurent was silent for a few moments, his phone still giving Auguste an unimpeded view of his ceiling. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll be fine.’</p>
<p>‘Are you sure?’</p>
<p>‘No,’ Laurent admitted. ‘I don’t think that’s something you… get over like that.’</p>
<p>‘You know you can call me any time, right? If you need anything, if you get back to France and need me to come over and help you with anything, I’ll be on the next plane.’</p>
<p>‘I know,’ Laurent said softly, and Auguste could’ve sworn he heard a tiny sniff, one that meant his brother might’ve been letting loose a few tears. ‘I wish you were here.’</p>
<p>The admission was quiet, in a smaller voice than Auguste had heard his brother use in years, since before he moved to train in France four years ago, before he’d had a thicker skin and was still taking every criticism to heart. ‘Laurent, I –’</p>
<p>‘I’ve got to go,’ Laurent cleared his throat. ‘I need to pack and get back to sort everything before Torveld beats me to it.’</p>
<p>‘If you see him –’</p>
<p>‘I’ll be civil. I’ll send you details of my flight when I get it sorted, yeah?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ Auguste sighed. ‘Laurent?’</p>
<p>‘What?’</p>
<p>Auguste wondered if he was pushing it, but decided to say it anyway. ‘I’m proud of you for making it to where you did.’</p>
<p>Laurent said nothing for a moment, then: ‘I’ll see you soon,’ and hung up.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Damen was suspicious.</p>
<p>Auguste had been cleaning the apartment for the last three days, sorting out their kitchen to be less of a mess, clearing out the fridge and organising their pantry. He’d tidied the spare room and hauled a bed in from somewhere, ordering sheets for the brand new mattress he’d bought and had express delivered. When Auguste vacuumed the apartment, <em>that </em>was when Damen decided to ask.</p>
<p>‘Hey, quick question,’ he said, watching Auguste struggle with the fitted sheet for the new bed.</p>
<p>‘What’s up?’ Auguste asked, stretching the last corner over and standing up triumphantly.</p>
<p>‘What the fuck is going on?’</p>
<p>Auguste blinked. ‘What do you mean?’</p>
<p>‘You’ve been cleaning, you bought about a hundred matching containers for storing things in the kitchen, and – oh yeah – you bought a new bed for the spare room,’ Damen said, gesturing to the bed in question. ‘So I think, as your roommate, it’s a valid concern for me.’</p>
<p>‘Maybe I’m just getting ready if we ever have guests.’</p>
<p>‘Wow, I would never have guessed.’</p>
<p>Auguste blushed, his hand twitching a little. ‘My brother is moving in.’</p>
<p>‘He’s – wait, what?’</p>
<p>‘He’s moving home, and moving in.’</p>
<p>‘Your brother?’</p>
<p>‘Yes. Did I forget to tell you?’</p>
<p>‘Uh, yes? I thought he was a myth.’</p>
<p>‘He lives in France, not Atlantis,’ Auguste said, rolling his eyes. ‘Or, I guess, he doesn’t live in France anymore. It’s not going to be permanent because he likes to have his own space, so he’ll probably just be here for a week or two until he finds his own place.’</p>
<p>Damen hummed. ‘So when were you going to tell me this?’</p>
<p>‘Well, I mean, when he showed up, probably.’</p>
<p>‘Auguste!’</p>
<p>Auguste shrugged. ‘Dude, it’s my apartment, I don’t have to tell you everything.’</p>
<p>Damen tossed a throw pillow at him, briefly wondering where it had come from, before saying, ‘Maybe not, but it’s kind of a courtesy, wouldn’t you say? I feel like a house guest is something I, as your roommate, who lives with you, should be aware of.’</p>
<p>‘You might be right.’</p>
<p>‘No, I <em>am </em>right,’ Damen sighed. ‘I haven’t even met your brother.’</p>
<p>Auguste made a noise. ‘You have. Kinda.’</p>
<p>‘I haven’t. I don’t know anything about him, except that you like him and he’s younger than you.’</p>
<p>Auguste made another noise Damen didn’t like. ‘Yeah, I probably should’ve said more about him, but it’s too late for that. Also, he might be mean to you.’</p>
<p>‘I don’t –’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, he arrives like, tomorrow, so,’ Auguste shrugged. ‘The blond dude that’s gonna show up here at some point is my brother and he’s allowed to be here.’</p>
<p>‘Brilliant, thanks for the advance notice.’</p>
<p>‘No problem, dude.’</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Damen yawned as he slammed shut the boot of his car, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he clicked the button on his keys to lock the doors, and headed to the entry for the rink. It wasn’t even early, the foyer clock saying it was just before eleven, but he’d been up with Auguste half the night clearing out their spare room and reorganising the wardrobe that was full of… just shit, really. Boxes and discarded exercise gear, a broken hockey stick, clothes four sizes too small for either of them.</p>
<p>Damen liked to just skate sometimes. It helped clear his mind – the smell of the ice, and sound of his blades cutting the smooth surface. His favourite time to go was during the day, when the rink was mostly empty, except for a few figure skaters making the most of the midday quiet of the place. They were easy enough to avoid, while he mainly went around the edges doing laps and they tended to stick to the middle or a face-off circle to practice spins on the dots in the ice.</p>
<p>As he walked through past the offices, he waved to the rink manager, Pallas, a friend of his, and headed to the benches to put on his skates.</p>
<p>When he reached the rink, and the first sounds of blades in ice hit him, he felt like he was in trouble. When he <em>saw </em>who was zipping across the rink, he <em>knew </em>he was in trouble.</p>
<p>Auguste had been watching this guy on the living room TV a week ago. Maybe. Damen wasn’t totally sure if it was the same guy, because he wasn’t wearing the same costume, and Damen hadn’t had a chance to see his face – not on the TV, where he’d been yelling (probably) at his coach, and not right now, because he was zipping across the ice and launching into a fast combination spin.</p>
<p>Which was to say, there was a blond, male figure skater on the ice. And Damen didn’t know him.</p>
<p>He dropped his bag on a bench and walked over, resting his arms on the boards as he watched the skater come up out of his spin and stop moving completely.</p>
<p>His chest was heaving as he pulled his wireless headphones off and turned towards Damen.</p>
<p>And, <em>fuck</em>, he was beautiful.</p>
<p>Damen blinked as the skater headed towards him, combing a gloved hand through his hair to get it away from his face. Damen did his best not to glance over the skater, but it was hard when he was in pants that showed every muscle in his legs, and an oversized yellow t-shirt that said <em>horse girl </em>in a curly, white font, with a picture of a unicorn underneath.</p>
<p>‘Can I help you?’ the skater asked coldly, reaching past Damen to his bag on the bench by the boards.</p>
<p>‘Oh, I –’</p>
<p>‘You were staring at me,’ he said, taking out his phone and a bottle of water. ‘What do you want?’</p>
<p>‘Sorry, you’re just… really good.’</p>
<p>The skater rolled his eyes. ‘Wow, thanks.’</p>
<p>Damen frowned. ‘Did I say something?’</p>
<p>‘“You’re just, like, really good,”’ the skater said, mocking Damen’s voice and shooting him a look. ‘Thanks for the compliment. Like I know, it’s probably shocking to see <em>me </em>in this rink, but you didn’t need to rub it in.’</p>
<p>‘I’m sorry?’ Damen raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t know who you think you are, but I was trying to be <em>nice </em>and give you a genuine compliment to be <em>nice</em>. I don’t have whatever ulterior motives you seem to think I do.’</p>
<p>‘Sure, okay,’ the skater said, slamming his bottle closed and placing it on top of the boards, scrolling through his phone and slipping it back into his bag as he pushed off from the boards and back to the centre of the ice.</p>
<p>‘Fucking figure skaters,’ Damen muttered, going back to his stuff and angrily lacing himself into his skates.</p>
<p>He sent a quick text to Auguste as he stood and headed to the gate to get on the ice: <strong>there’s some asshole at the rink and i'm seriously tempted to accidentally smash him into the boards &gt;:(</strong></p>
<p>The reply came as Damen was loading up a playlist on Spotify: <em>please don’t, the team needs you :(</em></p>
<p>Damen huffed and hit play as he touched his blades to the ice, gliding slowly forward a little as he organised a good queue of music and put his phone into his pocket.</p>
<p>He tried to focus on the ice, on his feet and the music, and on the ritual of skating his laps around the rink, but that <em>damn skater</em> kept getting in the way, spiralling into his space, or doing jumps right in front of him, or giving him a very satisfied smirk as he dug in his toe pick and left gouges all over the ice that Damen had to dodge and avoid clipping.</p>
<p>After an hour, much less than usual, he’d had enough. Damen growled to himself and came to a stop by one of the gates, sending a small shower of snow towards the skater, who was at the boards on his phone again.</p>
<p>‘Tired?’ the skater asked.</p>
<p>Damen shot him a look. ‘Tired of your shit, yeah.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, look at that, you’ve got a little bite, huh?’</p>
<p>Damen ground his teeth. ‘Are you like this all the time, or is it just because I told you your spins were good?’</p>
<p>The skater tilted his head. ‘Do you know who I am?’</p>
<p>‘A little bitch, apparently.’</p>
<p>‘Oh. Oh, wow. This is a new experience for me,’ the skater laughed a little to himself, hair falling over his forehead as he stretched down.</p>
<p>‘You have a seriously inflated sense of self,’ Damen said flatly, going back to his bench and organising himself to leave. He was tying his shoes back on when a shadow appeared over him. ‘What do you want?’ he asked, looking up.</p>
<p>‘Ouch, sorry,’ Pallas frowned. ‘Do you know who that guy is?’</p>
<p>‘Why does everyone keep asking me that?’ Damen groaned as he stood and grabbed his bag. ‘I’m going. See you tomorrow, maybe.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, uh, okay, but –’</p>
<p>‘Tomorrow!’</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Damen went straight home from the rink. He was needlessly annoyed by that skater, unable to take a compliment that Damen thought was well-deserved. Then again, he wasn’t exactly familiar with the etiquette of figure skating. Was it rude to compliment someone’s spins? Or to watch them practice? He didn’t think it was.</p>
<p>But then the skater had come out with the whole <em>“do you know who I am” </em>thing, and that had really just rubbed Damen the wrong way. How entitled did you need to be to ask a complete stranger that? Like Damen was supposed to just <em>know </em>who he was? Bullshit.</p>
<p>He dropped his bag in his room, taking his skates out to air on their spot on his shoe rack, and headed for the bathroom to shower. He’d stopped by the gym on the way home instead, and he much preferred his own shower to the ones there. Nik had told him once he’d got a foot thing there, and Damen wasn’t sure if he’d been joking or not, so he’d decided it was better safe than sorry.</p>
<p>His shower was nice and relaxing, really. He’d almost forgotten the happenings of the morning, almost completely put it behind him, when there was a knock on his front door.</p>
<p>Damen had just stepped out of the shower. He was dripping wet, literally, and knew Auguste would probably have a heart attack if he knew Damen was leaving wet footprints through the apartment to get to the door, but whoever was there was fucking <em>hammering </em>on the door, and Damen was half-convinced it would break in if he didn’t get there in time.</p>
<p>‘I’m coming!’ Damen yelled wrapping his towel tighter around his waist, holding it closed with one hand for extra security. ‘What?’ he asked loudly, swinging the door open.</p>
<p>The person on the other side of the door was just as shocked as Damen, hand still raised, eyes wide as he took in Damen’s very wet, naked body, and still in that stupid shirt from the rink.</p>
<p>‘Oh, <em>what</em> the fuck,’ Damen said flatly, ‘do you want?’</p>
<p>The skater lowered his hand and very determinedly did not move his eyes from Damen’s face. ‘I have the wrong apartment. I’m looking for my brother.’</p>
<p>Something twisted a little in Damen’s stomach as he sighed. ‘Please tell me you’re not related to Auguste.’</p>
<p>‘Yes,’ the skater announced. ‘I’m his brother, Laurent.’</p>
<p>‘My day truly cannot get better,’ Damen said, stepping aside and waving a hand grandly. ‘He’s not here.’</p>
<p>‘And why are you?’ Laurent asked, pulling a couple of suitcases and bags in behind himself.</p>
<p>‘I –’</p>
<p>Laurent held up a hand, dropping his backpack and jacket on the couch. ‘You’re Damen.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, I – yeah.’</p>
<p>‘You’re a hockey player.’</p>
<p>Damen frowned. ‘Yes. You’re a figure skater.’</p>
<p>‘But you knew that already.’</p>
<p>‘Well, yeah, I was at the rink this morning. I haven’t forgotten already.’</p>
<p>‘No, I –’ Laurent cut himself off and snapped his mouth shut. ‘Oh.’</p>
<p>‘What?’</p>
<p>‘I feel like I may owe you an apology for how I acted at the rink,’ Laurent explained, shutting the door behind himself as he pulled in the last of his bags. ‘Has Auguste told you anything about me?’</p>
<p>‘No, he only told me last night that you were even coming. I thought you didn’t actually exist until then,’ Damen crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Why?’</p>
<p>Laurent chewed on his bottom lip, a vast change to his attitude at the rink earlier in the day. ‘So you genuinely don’t know who I am?’</p>
<p>‘<em>No, </em>Jesus, I have no idea who you are, except his brother.’</p>
<p>Laurent stuck out a hand. ‘Laurent de Vere. I’m used to being recognised, and I’ve had a rough week, so I thought you were just antagonising me at the rink. I’m sorry for being an asshole.’</p>
<p>‘Are you actually just that far up your own ass you expect everyone to recognise you?’ Damen asked, shaking his hand nonetheless.</p>
<p>‘No, I’m just a figure skater,’ Laurent smiled slyly. ‘Have you ever seen Auguste watching figure skating?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, about a week ago. He was getting overly invested in some competition,’ Damen dropped Laurent’s hand and adjusted his towel, rather acutely aware he was still in <em>just </em>a towel.</p>
<p>‘The Grand Prix final,’ Laurent nodded. ‘He didn’t say anything while he was watching it?’</p>
<p>‘He watched some blond guy and then immediately left the room…’ Damen frowned, everything finally clicking in his head. ‘Was that you?’</p>
<p>‘That was me.’</p>
<p>‘Oh.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, I’m kind of a big deal. Or I used to be,’ Laurent sighed. ‘Did you catch my program?’</p>
<p>‘Uh, no.’</p>
<p>Laurent hummed, going over to his bag, apparently just for something to do, as he just opened the zip and closed it again. ‘I’ve qualified for the final four years in a row. I qualified for this year’s in second position, and then… I choked. My worst score since I moved into the senior competition.’</p>
<p>‘I’m sorry,’ Damen said. Even if he didn’t fully grasp what that meant, he could tell it hurt Laurent to talk about, and he figured they’d been rude enough to each other for the day.</p>
<p>Laurent looked up curiously. ‘Why? Was it your fault?’</p>
<p>‘Look, I’m just –’</p>
<p>‘I know,’ Laurent interrupted. ‘Sorry. Like I said, rough week. Imagine the calls Auguste has been getting if this is the tail-end of things.’</p>
<p>Damen cleared his throat. ‘Well. Do you want me to show you the room? I’d love to stand here and chat, but I’m not dressed for the occasion.’</p>
<p>Laurent’s eyes slid slowly down the last of the water drops on Damen’s bare chest, subconsciously pulling his lip in between his teeth as he reached the border of the towel. ‘Right.’</p>
<p>‘Okay, well,’ Damen headed to the hall. ‘You’re first on the right. Find it or don’t, I guess.’</p>
<p>‘Thanks,’ Laurent muttered.</p>
<p>Damen waved a hand back and disappeared down the hall and into his room. He didn’t really know how to feel, as he dried himself properly, dropping the damp towel on his floor while he looked for clothes. On one hand, Laurent was, y’know, stunning. And rude. But kind of nice? Which made him exactly Damen’s type.</p>
<p>On the other hand, he was rude. He was also Auguste’s brother, so that made him off limits, just because of the bro code.</p>
<p>Damen didn’t like whatever was going on in his head right now, so he shoved it aside and went back to looking for something clean to wear. Fuck, he was behind on his laundry.</p>
<p>And then, as Damen stood in his bedroom, butt-ass fucking naked, his door opened.</p>
<p>‘Messy assh-<em>oh </em>my god!’ Laurent cried, spinning back around as quickly as he’d come into Damen’s room. ‘What are you doing in my room!’</p>
<p>‘This is my room!’ Damen yelled back, grabbing a t-shirt and covering himself with it. ‘What the hell are you doing in <em>my </em>room?’</p>
<p>‘You said first on the left!’</p>
<p>‘I said first on the <em>right</em>!’</p>
<p>‘I don’t think you did!’</p>
<p>‘I’m pretty sure I know where my own room is!’</p>
<p>‘What the hell is – <em>Damen!</em>’ Auguste yelled, coming into the room as well. ‘Why are you exposing yourself to my little brother?!’</p>
<p>‘I just got out of the shower when he arrived, and then he came into my room while I was standing here with my junk out!’ Damen yelled back, gesturing wildly at Laurent, still determinedly facing away from Damen and out to the hallway. ‘Why does everyone think I’m doing things on <em>purpose </em>today?’</p>
<p>‘What?’</p>
<p>‘Dude, can we have this conversation when there’s more than a shirt covering my dick?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, sure, I guess,’ Auguste held his hands up. ‘Please put a shirt on as well, my brother is very gay and will be distracted.’</p>
<p>‘Auguste!’ Laurent screeched, as his brother pulled the door shut, leaving Damen standing on the other side in shock.</p>
<p>What the fuck?</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>‘What the fuck?’ Auguste announced, as Damen joined him and Laurent in the living room.</p>
<p>Laurent was still very determinedly not facing Damen, and ignored him as he sat on the couch. ‘I don’t like you having a roommate,’ Laurent said, glaring at Auguste. ‘You should kick him out while I’m here.’</p>
<p>‘Excuse me?’ Damen asked, eyebrows raised. ‘I was here first.’</p>
<p>‘I’ve known him longer.’</p>
<p>‘Buddy, I <em>live </em>here. You’re here temporarily. Get a hotel or something.’</p>
<p>Laurent turned to him, eyes narrowed and mouth turned down in displeasure. ‘I am <em>not </em>living out of a hotel.’</p>
<p>‘And I’m not leaving just because you walked in and saw my naked ass,’ Damen countered.</p>
<p>‘Oh, I saw <em>much </em>more than that,’ Laurent muttered.</p>
<p>‘Well,’ Auguste said, clearing his throat loudly. ‘Looks like you’ll just have to put up with each other.’</p>
<p>‘Auguste –’</p>
<p>‘Nope,’ Auguste interrupted his brother cheerfully. ‘Damen lives here, you said you would be here temporarily. There’s a spare room, if you don’t want to cross paths, just stay in it.’</p>
<p>‘Well, I call dibs on the rink, then,’ Laurent said.</p>
<p>‘You can’t call dibs on the rink. Damen skates too.’</p>
<p>‘He’s a hockey player, he’ll be fine not skating in circles for a while.’</p>
<p>‘If you’re going to live here, you’re going to see me anyway,’ Damen said with a sigh. ‘There’s only one rink on this side of town –’</p>
<p>‘So go to the other one.’</p>
<p>‘Why are you trying to make this so difficult? What did I do to you? What happened to apologising and being civil?’</p>
<p>‘You had your entire –’ Laurent’s eyes dropped to Damen’s crotch as his tongue darted out to wet his lip, apparently subconsciously, ‘– <em>everything </em>was out. I take offence to that.’</p>
<p>‘You take offence to me being naked in my own bedroom,’ Damen said drily, ‘or you take offence precisely to my dick?’</p>
<p>‘Maybe both.’</p>
<p>‘Well, that sure is a pity, because I look great naked, and I’m amazing in bed with my apparently offensive dick.’</p>
<p>Laurent blushed, turning sharply back to Auguste. ‘Are we done here? I want to shower.’</p>
<p>Auguste rolled his eyes. ‘Sure. Towels in the closet across from the bathroom.’</p>
<p>‘Wonderful,’ Laurent said, standing swiftly, and sending one last glance to Damen before he disappeared down the hall.</p>
<p>‘Dude,’ Auguste said, flopping onto the couch beside Damen when the bathroom door slammed shut. ‘What the hell?’</p>
<p>‘Okay, look, I saw him at the rink and he was weird and defensive after I complimented his skating, then he turned up here and apologised and everything seemed fine. And then he walked into my room and that’s where you came in,’ Damen shrugged. ‘I didn’t do anything.’</p>
<p>Auguste sighed and shook his head. ‘He’s had a rough week.’</p>
<p>‘I heard, but that’s no excuse to be a dick.’</p>
<p>‘He’ll settle down. I think he’ll like you when he gets to know you.’</p>
<p>‘And in the meantime?’</p>
<p>‘Cut him some slack.’ An expression crossed Auguste’s face that Damen couldn’t quite decipher before it disappeared. ‘He’s not a bad guy, Damen. He’s just having a bad time. Imagine if everything you’d worked for was cut in the blink of an eye and you were basically back at square one having to prove yourself all over.’</p>
<p>‘He doesn’t strike me as someone to get nervous,’ Damen frowned.</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ Auguste agreed. ‘He’s not.’</p>
<p>‘Then what –’</p>
<p>‘Just a series of events that were outside his control,’ Auguste interrupted. ‘Don’t ask him about it. Just be nice to him.’</p>
<p>‘I’ll be nice to him if he’s nice –’</p>
<p>‘I honestly doubt he’ll do a complete 180 and be nice to you, but be nice to him anyway. He doesn’t deserve to have people be dicks to him.’</p>
<p>Damen raised an eyebrow. ‘He kinda does though.’</p>
<p>‘Damen,’ Auguste warned.</p>
<p>Damen rolled his eyes. ‘Fine, whatever. I’ll be nice to him.’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. crisis times</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>‘Hockey is about slapping a little meatball across the ice.’<br/>‘Did you just call the puck a meatball?’<br/>‘If the shoe fits.’</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tentatively saying i'll update this every two weeks bc that should give me enough time to write and edit chapters in the meantime? (i have a few other things to post though so hopefully it won't be radio silence over here until the end of november lol)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Being nice was harder than Damen expected. Laurent was making it exceptionally hard to be nice to him, because all his behaviour was rude and annoyed Damen to no end – he stole Damen’s cereal, left his towels in the bathroom, and gave him cold looks whenever Damen so much as opened his door.</p>
<p>Damen definitely hadn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t know why Laurent insisted on being like this, so he did his best to try to bridge the gap and – surprisingly – it worked.</p>
<p>It had been four days, and Damen had the feeling Laurent didn’t like being walked up on and surprised, so he knocked on the wall at the edge of the living room, where Laurent was sitting on the couch and watching replays of his own skating routine. ‘Hey,’ he said, once Laurent paused the TV and turned to him in utter disinterest. ‘I’m going to the rink then to get some groceries if you want to come.’</p>
<p>‘Why would I want to do that?’ Laurent asked, turning back to the television and rewinding back for a few moments, pressing play to watch himself attempt a jump and fail, spinning across the ice on his side.</p>
<p>‘Because you haven’t left the apartment since you got here,’ Damen said, wincing in sympathy as TV-Laurent wobbled across the screen. ‘This isn’t healthy. You can’t focus on your failures.’</p>
<p>‘I can.’</p>
<p>‘But you shouldn’t. Come skate with me. I’ll yell insults at you instead of compliments if it makes you feel better.’</p>
<p>Laurent didn’t turn from the screen, but Damen saw a wry smile spread across his face. ‘Fine.’</p>
<p>Damen blinked. ‘Fine? You’ll come?’</p>
<p>‘Yes,’ Laurent stood and turned off the television. ‘All your sugary junk is making my skin break out. I miss vegetables.’</p>
<p>Damen hummed politely. ‘Well, you can’t take up too much of the fridge.’</p>
<p>‘I’ll do what I want.’</p>
<p>Auguste’s voice popped into Damen’s head, screeching <em>be nice! </em>so Damen fought against his natural instincts to snark back at him, and just went to his room to get his gear as Laurent did the same.</p>
<p>The drive to the rink was dead silent, as Laurent watched the world go by outside the window. Damen didn’t try to make conversation. He was glad when they arrived at the rink, jumping from his car as soon as it was parked and turned off, grabbing his bag and waiting for Laurent to do the same.</p>
<p>‘Eager to leave my company?’ Laurent asked drily, taking his stuff from the boot and pushing his sunglasses to his hair as he and Damen walked into the rink.</p>
<p>‘I offered to spend an indefinite amount of time in close proximity to you,’ Damen reminded him.</p>
<p>‘But you don’t know how to talk to me.’</p>
<p>‘Auguste told me to be nice to you, but it’s hard when you clearly hate me for whatever reason.’</p>
<p>Laurent said nothing for a moment as he and Damen pushed through the entrance. ‘I don’t hate you,’ he said quietly.</p>
<p>‘That’s news to me,’ Damen muttered.</p>
<p>‘It’s just a bad time.’</p>
<p>‘That’s what Auguste said.’</p>
<p>‘Did he tell you why?’</p>
<p>‘No.’</p>
<p>‘You didn’t ask?’</p>
<p>Damen shrugged. ‘It’s not my business.’</p>
<p>Laurent nodded. ‘Thank you for not prying.’</p>
<p>‘I’m not a total jerk that I’d make him tell me or something.’</p>
<p>Laurent chewed on his lip as they made their way through to the stands, dumping their bags and starting the process of getting into their skates. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been rude to you.’</p>
<p>‘Last time you apologised, you turned it straight on its head,’ Damen said, thumping his heel on the ground to get his foot into his skate.</p>
<p>‘I won’t do it this time,’ Laurent said, watching Damen with a raised brow. ‘I’ll be nice.’</p>
<p>‘Oh?’</p>
<p>‘I’ll start by replacing all your disgustingly sugary cereal.’</p>
<p>‘Wow, big spender, huh,’ Damen grinned. ‘You don’t need to apologise for having a bad time, you just need to take it out in healthy ways, and that doesn’t involve getting shitty at me when it wasn’t my fault.’</p>
<p>‘That’s fair,’ Laurent agreed, dropping his sunglasses into his bag and combing his fingers through his hair.</p>
<p>‘Doesn’t that get in the way when you skate?’ Damen asked, nodding to Laurent’s long hair as he finished tying his skates.</p>
<p>‘Sometimes,’ Laurent said, as they headed to the ice, where only a couple of people where skating around idly. ‘It’s not ideal for spins and jumps, but I like it when I just skate.’</p>
<p>‘Want to do a couple of laps?’ Damen asked glancing pointedly to the near-empty rink.</p>
<p>‘You want to race me?’</p>
<p>‘It wouldn’t be a race, because I’d obviously win, but just a few warm up laps.’</p>
<p>‘You think you’d win?’ Laurent laughed. ‘What on earth gives you that impression?’</p>
<p>‘I could beat you going backwards,’ Damen shrugged. ‘Hockey is about speed.’</p>
<p>‘Hockey is about slapping a little meatball across the ice.’</p>
<p>‘Did you just call the puck a meatball?’</p>
<p>‘If the shoe fits.’</p>
<p>‘It doesn’t.’</p>
<p>Laurent grinned. ‘Race?’</p>
<p>Damen glanced over to the pair of people idly skating and nodded to them. ‘I’m just going to go give them a warning.’</p>
<p>‘Why? Laurent asked, stepping onto the ice with him.</p>
<p>‘Because it’s polite,’ Damen said, zipping off and coming to a gentle stop next to them, smiling apologetically as they startled and glared at him. ‘Hi, sorry.’</p>
<p>‘Hello?’ one of them said, still skating slowly and half-tugging their partner along. ‘Can we help you?’</p>
<p>‘Yes, I just wanted to warn you that me and my friend are going to do a few high speed laps,’ Damen said, pointing back to Laurent. ‘He’s very competitive and I just wanted to make sure you were prepared for uh… that.’</p>
<p>‘Oh,’ they swapped a glance. ‘Yeah, that’s okay, we’ll step off for a moment, if you want?’</p>
<p>‘That would be great,’ Damen said, relieved. He was kind of scared Laurent might actually push him into the boards to get a win, and he was glad these people were offering to get off the ice for a moment to avoid becoming collateral. ‘Thank you so much, it’ll probably be only a minute or two.’</p>
<p>The pair nodded, muttering as they skated to the closest gate. Maybe not as gracious as Damen thought.</p>
<p>He skated back to Laurent, who had gone off the ice again to stretch against the boards. ‘We have two minutes,’ Damen said, frowning as Laurent stuck a leg completely vertical. ‘Is that necessary?’</p>
<p>Laurent raised an eyebrow, putting it back down and switching to the other leg. ‘Yes. If you were wise, you’d stretch as well.’</p>
<p>‘Can you stretch after?’</p>
<p>‘No.’</p>
<p>Damen made a quiet <em>ugh </em>sound, and got off the ice, doing a few half-hearted stretches while he waited for Laurent to stop whatever he was doing.</p>
<p>‘Okay,’ Laurent slid back around onto the ice and turned towards Damen. ‘Coming?’</p>
<p>Damen bit back the joke that automatically came to mind, instead nodding and joining him again at the end of the rink against the boards. ‘Are you finally ready?’</p>
<p>‘To beat you? Definitely.’</p>
<p>‘It’s not a race. No one is timing or watching.’</p>
<p>‘I think the people you just kicked off the ice are watching.’</p>
<p>Damen looked to where Laurent was nodding, where the pair were waiting… not exactly patiently. ‘Do I need to close the gates?’</p>
<p>‘I don’t intend to crash,’ Laurent shrugged. ‘Do you?’</p>
<p>‘No.’</p>
<p>‘Then they’re probably fine.’</p>
<p>‘Fine. How many laps?’</p>
<p>‘Five. This end of the rink marks a lap.’</p>
<p>‘Fine,’ Damen agreed. ‘Count down?’</p>
<p>Laurent laughed. ‘Fuck no,’ he said, pushing from the boards and shooting across the ice.</p>
<p>‘That’s cheating!’ Damen yelled, following closely behind, but definitely feeling better about it after he passed in front of Laurent going around the first bend.</p>
<p>‘I have a competitive spirit!’ Laurent yelled back, catching up and getting close enough for Damen to see his skates in his peripheral.</p>
<p>‘Don’t you dare push me!’ Damen said, putting in a bit of extra speed as they zipped past their mark.</p>
<p>‘I’m not going to push you!’ Laurent laughed, cutting across the ice to get ahead of Damen.</p>
<p>‘Cheating!’</p>
<p>‘No!’</p>
<p>Damen narrowed his eyes and cut across in front of Laurent.</p>
<p>There was a lot of cutting, and cheating, but surprisingly no pushing, which made Damen feel a little better, even as he came to a stop, spraying ice at Laurent who was leaning against the boards. Had it been five rounds?</p>
<p>‘I figured we’d eaten enough of their time,’ Laurent said, frowning at Damen’s little display, but waving to the pair of skaters still standing at the boards.</p>
<p>‘That’s considerate of you,’ Damen said, hands on his hips as he looked Laurent over. ‘You cheated.’</p>
<p>‘I didn’t cheat. It’s called being crafty,’ Laurent sniffed, skating back to the gate to jump off and grab his headphones. ‘Leave me alone now.’</p>
<p>‘You’re a very pleasant person, has anyone ever told you?’ Damen asked, getting his own headphones.</p>
<p>‘Constantly,’ Laurent smiled. ‘I’m my parents’ favourite child, actually.’</p>
<p>‘Oh?’</p>
<p>‘With a brother like Auguste, it’s impossible I’m not.’</p>
<p>Damen hummed. ‘Auguste’s not bad.’</p>
<p>‘You’ll really like me, then.’</p>
<p>Damen raised an eyebrow, watching Laurent as he blushed and skated to centre ice, touching the side of his headphones and closing his eyes.</p>
<p>Laurent bopped around for a little, making small steps and barely moving outside the main circle as he twisted his arms and made small turns, before he came to a complete stop and rolled his shoulders, touching his headphones again as he came back to the middle of the rink.</p>
<p>Damen figured Laurent knew he was watching, judging by the way he glared at him from his spot on the ice, so Damen rolled his eyes and started his own routine, skating the edges of the rink. He still watched Laurent as he went, but now he was moving, Laurent seemed okay with it.</p>
<p>Fuck, he was good.</p>
<p>Damen knew a little about figure skating – things he picked up from his friends who were into it (Auguste apparently excluded) – and he was pretty sure Laurent was… very good. His movements were fluid, beautifully connected and flowing from one another, his jumps perfectly executed, save for the odd jump that he wobbled a little on the landing, but even those were – well, good. There was a lot of spinning involved, and Damen was getting tired just watching him.</p>
<p>Damen didn’t interrupt him for quite a while – more than five minutes, but definitely not an hour – when Laurent delivered himself to a stop, as he pushed himself into a jump and landed badly, crumpling to the ice and just sitting there for a moment, before he starfished out onto his back and stared up at the roof of the rink.</p>
<p>Damen skated over as calmly as he could, even though he wasn’t entirely unconvinced Laurent may have just like. Broken a leg or something. He hadn’t, but Damen didn’t know what kind of injuries were to be expected here. Was that possible?</p>
<p>Laurent sat up as Damen came to a stop next to him. ‘What?’ he asked, pulling his headphones down to rest around his neck.</p>
<p>‘Are you okay?’ Damen asked, kneeling beside his legs and looking them over. They looked fine – a good sign?</p>
<p>‘I’m fine,’ Laurent rolled his eyes. ‘Just got stuck in the ice and fell. No problem.’</p>
<p>‘Really? It looked like you did something to your leg.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, I landed on it, just not quite on the right angle. It’s fine.’</p>
<p>‘Are you sure?’</p>
<p>‘Yes, Damen. I’m sure.’</p>
<p>Damen made a noise as he watched Laurent stand, brushing snow from his legs and gesturing grandly to himself. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked again, resolutely keeping his eyes on Laurent’s face, and not the pair of muscled thighs directly in his eyeline.</p>
<p>‘Very,’ Laurent confirmed, raising his eyebrows and making a little <em>stand up </em>motion with his hand. ‘Are <em>you </em>okay?’</p>
<p>‘Why wouldn’t I be okay?’</p>
<p>‘You have no poker face.’ Laurent sounded amused, surveying Damen as he stood.</p>
<p>‘What’s my face saying?’ Damen asked, voice maybe a little more strained than he would’ve liked.</p>
<p>‘Good question. Definitely something stupid.’</p>
<p>‘Hey, that’s –’</p>
<p>‘Just say it.’</p>
<p>‘Say what?’</p>
<p>‘You said you would insult me instead of compliment my skating, but I can tell you’re bursting to anyway.’</p>
<p>‘You’re a little narcissistic, aren’t you?’</p>
<p>‘Am I wrong?’ Laurent asked, as they skated together towards the boards, reaching over into his bag for his water.</p>
<p>Damen sighed, resting his elbows on the wood behind him and facing out to the ice. ‘You’re really good,’ he said quietly. ‘Like, <em>really </em>good. I don’t know what happened, but you can’t just… stop skating. You have so much talent, and I think it would be a waste.’</p>
<p>Laurent sipped his water slowly, setting the bottle down precariously on top of the boards and turning to Damen. ‘Who said I’ve stopped skating?’</p>
<p>‘Haven’t you?’</p>
<p>‘It’s not that simple,’ Laurent slammed his palm against the sipper of his bottle to shut it. ‘I’ve ended my season, but I don’t want to stop skating. I moved home, I have no coach, I have programs I’ve ruined with that disastrous performance at the Grand Prix. I don’t know where to go from here.’</p>
<p>‘You’ve ended your season? So there are more competitions going?’</p>
<p>‘Plenty,’ Laurent nodded. ‘I’m afraid Torveld will have had me blacklisted after –’ Laurent cut himself off sharply. ‘I just don’t know what to do.’</p>
<p>‘Who’s Torveld? Your coach?’ Damen asked. ‘Ex-coach?’</p>
<p>‘Ex-coach. I dropped him in the kiss and cry after my free program, and haven’t seen him since.’ Laurent shook his head, holding the boards and letting his legs drift backwards to stretch out his back. ‘But it’s not even just that. People expect things from me, people depend on me, and I don’t want to face them after what happened.’</p>
<p>‘Okay, well,’ Damen frowned, thinking carefully about his words and watching Laurent to gauge his reaction to them. ‘I don’t know anything about what happened at the…’</p>
<p>‘Grand Prix.’</p>
<p>‘Right. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t want to Google things, but how bad was it?’</p>
<p>Laurent sighed, letting out a sad laugh. ‘My worst ever score in a free program.’</p>
<p>‘I don’t – what does that mean?’</p>
<p>‘It means I usually score at least in the one-eighties for the free, and I was <em>well </em>under that.’</p>
<p>‘How much under?’</p>
<p>‘I missed nearly all of the elements in my program, Damen,’ Laurent said, tone hard. ‘No one will want to work with me after that, and they don’t even –’ he cut himself off once more, grinding his teeth together. ‘No one will want to coach me, or choreograph – nothing.’</p>
<p>‘Wow,’ Damen said, because he didn’t know what else he <em>could </em>say. ‘Please don’t hit me, but can I give you some advice?’</p>
<p>‘Sure, though I can’t promise I won’t be mad at you for it.’</p>
<p>Damen nodded. ‘Take it one step at a time?’ he suggested. ‘Start from the bottom, like – I don’t know how this works. Make an announcement about breaking from your coach? Or something? Keep practicing on your own until you find a new coach? Actually –’</p>
<p>‘That’s what I’m doing,’ Laurent snapped. ‘I don’t know what to do, so I skate. I don’t want to talk about what happened with Torveld, because even though there have been rumours, I don’t trust myself not to just let it out and ruin my career in the process.’</p>
<p>‘What kind of rumours?’</p>
<p>‘I’m not taking this out on you. We had an agreement,’ Laurent sighed, deflating again. ‘The rumours haven’t been kind, and all my mentions on social media are just… battering.’</p>
<p>‘Break your silence, then. Like, a post that you’re alive or something.’</p>
<p>‘I can’t do that, not yet, because that’ll lead to people asking me about my coaching situation, and I don’t want to announce I’m a free agent, because that’ll just – that’s not me.’</p>
<p>‘Well…’ Damen chewed his lip, wondering if he should just keep his mouth shut.</p>
<p>‘What is it?’</p>
<p>‘I know someone who might coach you.’</p>
<p>‘Oh really,’ Laurent said flatly.</p>
<p>‘I’ll call him later and see if he’s interested, if you want.’</p>
<p>‘Sure, why not?’</p>
<p>‘Okay. That’s a starting point. Good, yeah?’</p>
<p>‘I wouldn’t say that.’</p>
<p>‘Well, it’s better than what you were going to do, isn’t it?’</p>
<p>Laurent narrowed his eyes. ‘Shut up. I’m going to skate some more. Don’t get in my way.’</p>
<p>‘Sure thing,’ Damen said, as Laurent pushed off the wall and launched back into whatever he was doing.</p>
<p>They didn’t bother each other again as they skated, but Damen kept an eye on Laurent. He didn’t know where his sudden protectiveness had come from, but from what Laurent had – and hadn’t – said, he’d picked up that something had happened with his coach. Something more than Laurent was telling him, and something that could ruin his career.</p>
<p>That left few possibilities. Damen wasn’t going to pry though. He wasn’t that kind of person, and he didn’t want to betray the tentative friendship he was building with Laurent.</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure how much time passed before Laurent skated up beside him and gestured for him to take out his headphones.</p>
<p>‘Yeah?’ Damen asked.</p>
<p>‘I’m ready to go when you are,’ Laurent said, lifting a shoulder. ‘The people on the ice are staring at me.’</p>
<p>Damen raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at his oversized shirt – a pattern of horses in different colours. ‘I wonder why?’</p>
<p>‘It’s not the shirt,’ Laurent rolled his eyes. ‘I think –’</p>
<p>‘Is it because you’ve been showing off?’</p>
<p>‘Practicing isn’t showing off, it’s <em>practice</em>.’</p>
<p>‘Do you want me to talk to them?’</p>
<p>‘No, I just want to get some groceries and go home and shower.’</p>
<p>‘Okay,’ Damen nodded, hopping off the ice as they passed by an open gate, heading back to their bags.</p>
<p>‘So,’ Laurent said, as they sat down to take off their skates. ‘Tell me something about yourself.’</p>
<p>‘Is this a date?’ Damen asked, pulling off a skate and shoving its soaker back on before he dropped it in his bag.</p>
<p>‘No! Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean –’</p>
<p>‘I was joking,’ Damen interrupted, ‘and that wasn’t a gay joke.’</p>
<p>‘Good, because they’re not funny. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I want to fuck you.’</p>
<p>‘Just because I’m bi doesn’t mean I want to fuck you <em>either</em>,’ Damen shot back. ‘Now that’s done, what do you want to know?’</p>
<p>‘Wait, you’re bi?’ Laurent asked. ‘My brother’s bi. Have you guys –’</p>
<p>‘Ew, don’t finish that sentence,’ Damen said, gagging a little. ‘No. Strictly friends. Though like, he’s got a nice ass.’</p>
<p>‘Funny, he said the same thing about you when he asked me to move in.’</p>
<p>‘Said what? Move into my house, my roommate has a good butt?’</p>
<p>Laurent smiled, shoving his feet into his shoes and zipping up his skate bag. ‘Something along those lines. Tell me something else. We’ve spent almost all our time talking about me and my problems.’</p>
<p>‘Uh…’ Damen frowned as he stood and hoisted his bag to his shoulder. ‘You like horses, right?’</p>
<p>‘Once again about me, but yes, how did you know?’ Laurent asked, giving a weird little twirl and making a noise at himself as soon as he settled and started walking again. ‘Please pretend I didn’t do that.’</p>
<p>‘Do what?’ Damen asked, earning a wry smile from Laurent. ‘Well, when I was sixteen, my parents sent to me to my uncle’s farm for the summer because they thought I needed to be outside more instead of spending all my time at the rink. While I was there, I spent pretty much all my time on a horse called Alex, and now I go back whenever I can to see him and uh, my horse.’</p>
<p>‘Your horse?’</p>
<p>‘Bucephalus.’</p>
<p>‘Bucephalus is a far cry from Alex, in terms of names.’</p>
<p>Damen laughed as they reached his car, unlocking it so they could dump their bags in the back. ‘His name is Alexander the Great. Bucephalus is his son.’</p>
<p>‘Gods, you fucking nerd,’ Laurent said, shaking his head as he made the connection. ‘That’s embarrassing.’</p>
<p>‘Hey, you picked up on it.’</p>
<p>‘Bucephalus was a horse, of course I picked up on it, dumbass.’</p>
<p>‘Rude,’ Damen muttered. ‘Anything else you want to know and shame me for?’</p>
<p>‘You have a horse,’ Laurent said.</p>
<p>‘Yes, we’ve established that.’</p>
<p>‘I love horses.’</p>
<p>‘We’ve established that too.’</p>
<p>‘You should take me for a ride one day.’</p>
<p>‘Would you want that?’ Damen asked, as he headed the car towards the grocery store. ‘It’s a long drive.’</p>
<p>‘What can I say, I love horses. I’m willing to put up with you,’ Laurent shrugged. ‘Okay. Tell me something else.’</p>
<p>‘Like?’</p>
<p>‘Favourite book? Favourite movie? I don’t know. Favourite colour?’</p>
<p>‘Okay, uh – <em>Twilight, Gladiator</em>, and wine red.’</p>
<p>‘<em>Twilight</em>?’ Laurent repeated incredulously.</p>
<p>‘It was the first book I thought of!’ Damen said defensively. ‘Okay, you know what, call me a child, but Rick Riordan writes a great book.’</p>
<p>‘Okay, I’ll take that,’ Laurent nodded. ‘Music?’</p>
<p>‘I’m really into Norse folk music at the moment, actually. Alternative pop, classical music and movie scores. Punk, on occasion.’</p>
<p>‘A man of many interests. Did you go to university?’</p>
<p>‘I did. Guess what my degree’s in.’</p>
<p>‘You look like…’ Laurent squinted at him – or maybe that was just because as they turned, the sun went directly behind Damen. ‘Sports management? I don’t know.’</p>
<p>Damen grinned. ‘Writing, actually.’</p>
<p>‘Writing?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>Laurent hummed. ‘Interesting. Not what I would’ve thought, honestly.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, no, I gathered that,’ Damen laughed. ‘Anything else? My past relationships? My family? My medical history?’</p>
<p>‘That seems a little personal. How about your deepest fears and insecurities?’</p>
<p>‘I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.’</p>
<p>‘Okay, not that desperate to know,’ Laurent said, frowning as they pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. ‘Do you have a hoodie or something in your car?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, why?’</p>
<p>‘Do you mind if I borrow it?’</p>
<p>Damen blinked, turning to Laurent in mild confusion. ‘Are you cold? You were just in a freezing skating rink in uh… what you’re in.’</p>
<p>Laurent hummed. ‘I’m not really fit to be seen in these clothes out in the world.’</p>
<p>‘Huh?’</p>
<p>‘I’m wearing compression tights and my entire ass is out. Pretty sure a hoodie or jacket of yours would cover it.’</p>
<p>‘You’re worried about people staring at your ass?’</p>
<p>‘Usually it wouldn’t bother me,’ Laurent admitted, ‘but I’m not quite in that ultra-confident headspace, okay?’</p>
<p>Damen nodded. ‘Grey okay?’</p>
<p>‘Yes, thank you,’ Laurent said, shutting his mouth with an audible click as Damen stretched between their seats to grab it off the back seat.</p>
<p>‘It’s clean,’ Damen said as he handed over the hoodie, figuring that was what Laurent’s distaste may have been directed at.</p>
<p>‘I’d hope so,’ Laurent muttered, getting out to pull on the hoodie as Damen went around to the boot to retrieve his reusable bags.</p>
<p>Something fluttered in Damen’s chest at the sight of Laurent in his <em>very </em>oversized hoodie, and he decidedly pushed it down. No. Absolutely not going there. Laurent was now staring expectantly at him. ‘Yeah, it – you look great.’</p>
<p>A tiny amused furrow appeared in Laurent’s brow. ‘Thanks. Are you getting the bags?’</p>
<p>Damen looked into the boot and at the pile of bags he hadn’t realised he’d dropped. ‘Oh.’</p>
<p>Laurent rolled his eyes and grabbed them, pushing Damen gently from the door and shutting the boot. ‘Lock the car, Damen.’</p>
<p>Damen dutifully pressed the lock button on his keys and followed Laurent to the store entrance. He snapped out of whatever little daze he was in as Laurent pulled out a cart and dumped the bags in it.</p>
<p>‘Push,’ Laurent said, combing his fingers through his hair and twirling it into a messy bun, securing it with the elastic from his wrist as they started through the store, busier than usual as Christmas approached.</p>
<p>It was mostly uneventful, with some polite discussion about fruit and vegetable quality, and a few snarky comments when Damen skipped an aisle he didn’t think Laurent would want to go down. Other than that, everything was perfectly civil, once Damen let Laurent lead him where he wanted to go.</p>
<p>‘Ice cream?’ Damen asked tentatively. ‘You said you’re still in training mode,’ he said, eyeing the piles of various health foods in the cart.</p>
<p>‘Yes,’ Laurent opened a door to grab a few tubs of ice cream. ‘I’m also going through something.’</p>
<p>Damen hummed, taking a couple of tubs for himself, including one of the chocolate almond tubs Laurent had chosen. ‘And you’re only getting ice cream? If you were really going through something, you’d have bags of chips and seven different dips to combine to try and make yourself feel something other than sadness.’</p>
<p>‘Speaking from experience there?’</p>
<p>‘My girlfriend cheated on me.’</p>
<p>‘Oh?’</p>
<p>‘With my brother.’</p>
<p>‘Oh.’ Laurent stopped the cart, standing in front of Damen as they passed the end of the snacks aisle. ‘Do you need to get some chips and seven different dips?’</p>
<p>Damen laughed, steering them into a checkout instead. ‘Nope. It was a while ago. I’m good.’</p>
<p>‘Okay good, because I can only deal with one crisis at a time, and I’ve chosen for it to be my own,’ Laurent said, starting to dump groceries on the conveyor belt.</p>
<p>‘You know what? That’s fair,’ Damen nodded. ‘Uh, do you want to separate our stuff, or –’</p>
<p>‘Don’t worry about it,’ Laurent said, raising a hand dismissively. ‘I’ll pay. It’s the least I can do for… everything.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, you don’t –’</p>
<p>‘Seriously,’ Laurent interrupted. ‘I’ve got it covered.’</p>
<p>Damen sighed. ‘Okay, whatever.’</p>
<p>‘Supporting my local starving artist or whatever.’</p>
<p>‘I’m not starving,’ Damen said with a smile. ‘But I appreciate the concern for my welfare.’</p>
<p>Laurent gave him a sarcastic thumbs up and struck up a conversation with the cashier as she started scanning their stuff.</p>
<p>Damen finished unloading his end of the cart and leaned against the handle of it, trying his very best not to stare at the defined muscles he could see in Laurent’s leg.</p>
<p>‘Damen?’ Laurent said. ‘Are you okay over there?’</p>
<p>Damen looked up with a sheepish smile. ‘Yeah, totally fine, why?’</p>
<p>‘You looked like you were having a bit of a crisis.’</p>
<p>‘I’m good, I’m completely great.’</p>
<p>‘Uh huh,’ Laurent turned back to the cashier and said something quietly, making her grin as she looked back to Damen. Laurent’s card appeared from somewhere, and they gathered their bags and headed back to the car. Laurent kept sneaking glances at Damen as they walked in silence, as they loaded the bags, and then got in the car to head back to the apartment.</p>
<p>‘What?’ Damen asked, keeping his eyes on the road but in his peripheral, seeing Laurent twist the strings of his hoodie around his fingers.</p>
<p>‘What?’ Laurent repeated.</p>
<p>‘Why are you staring at me?’</p>
<p>‘I’m not staring at you,’ Laurent said, even as he turned back to face out the window. ‘Besides, you were staring at me.’</p>
<p>‘When?’</p>
<p>‘In the store. I saw you. The checkout girl saw you.’</p>
<p>‘I wasn’t staring, I was zoning out in the direction of your legs.’</p>
<p>‘So you were staring at my legs.’</p>
<p>‘They’re nice legs!’ Damen said defensively, before realising how that sounded. ‘Which is a thing I have noticed in passing and not at all from staring at them.’</p>
<p>‘Uh huh,’ Laurent said doubtfully, and the conversation dropped into silence for the remainder of the ride.</p>
<p>It stayed that way as they parked and hauled all their bags into the apartment, barely speaking even as they unloaded groceries and put them away.</p>
<p>‘Right,’ Damen said, folding his reusable bags and shoving them into a spare to keep them together. ‘I’m going to shower, unless you want to go first.’</p>
<p>‘Nope, go for it,’ Laurent said, waving a hand and heading into his room, as Damen split off into his to dump his skates and shoes.</p>
<p>Damen grabbed a towel and glanced at Laurent’s closed door. He was being weird again, but Damen shook it off, closing the bathroom door and stripping his clothes into a pile on the floor.</p>
<p>The water was nice as he stepped under it, running his hands through his hair to wet it, before he stood there for a few moments just letting it go over him. It was barely early afternoon, but today had been… a lot. A lot had happened, but the water felt like it was washing that off.</p>
<p>He had much to think about, but Damen decided to push it from his mind and instead focus on the routine of his shower, washing and conditioning his hair, lathering himself up with soap and rinsing it back off, before he just stood with his face under the water.</p>
<p>And then the door opened.</p>
<p>Damen turned to face where he figured Laurent would be standing in the doorway judgementally. The glass of the shower door was mostly fogged up, so Damen couldn’t see much more than the vague shape of Laurent. He wasn’t in the doorway. ‘You know I’m in here, right,’ he asked drily. ‘You’re not going to be offended at my nakedness again, are you?’</p>
<p>‘No,’ Laurent said, voice a little louder than necessary over the water.</p>
<p>‘What do you want?’</p>
<p>Damen watched Laurent pace back to the door, before he turned again and came back to the shower. ‘Can I come in?’</p>
<p>Damen frowned and cracked the door to look curiously at Laurent. ‘You are in?’</p>
<p>‘No, dumbass,’ Laurent said, blushing a little, but looking determined.</p>
<p>‘Oh,’ Damen raised an eyebrow. ‘You want to?’</p>
<p>Laurent pulled Damen’s hoodie over his head and – oh, he’d apparently prepared for this – stepped into the shower, completely naked.</p>
<p>The shower was big, but so was Damen, and together with Laurent in there, it was a bit of a squeeze when Damen shut the door again, moving from the water as Laurent pushed in to wash. It left even less space as Damen tried to avoid touching or even looking at Laurent. But Damen left him to it, taking his cleanser from his shelf and spending far too long making a lather on his face, waiting for Laurent to duck out of the way to rinse it off again.</p>
<p>He was done with his shower, and Damen knew he should leave, but this was a heady experience. Surely, Laurent knew what he was doing, with the small noises and the way he kept turning to glance briefly at Damen over his shoulder.</p>
<p>Gods help him, Damen didn’t want to get into anything he shouldn’t. He knew Laurent wasn’t in the best space, but fuck – Damen was a glutton for punishment. Besides, Laurent hadn’t said anything about him still being in the shower, despite clearly having nothing left to do.</p>
<p>Damen wondered…</p>
<p>He put his hand gently on Laurent’s hip, waiting for a signal to take it off. If anything, Laurent leaned into it, and Damen took that as a good sign, placing his other hand on Laurent’s other hip and stepping close enough to his back to feel the wisps of Laurent’s dry hair on his face.</p>
<p>‘Damen…’ Laurent breathed, putting his hands over Damen’s.</p>
<p>‘Do you want me to stop?’ Damen asked quietly.</p>
<p>Laurent shook his head, leaning his back against Damen’s chest, and lightly rubbing his ass over Damen’s crotch.</p>
<p>Damen pressed a tentative kiss to his shoulder as he brought one hand along Laurent’s stomach and down, trailing his fingers across the top of his thigh to his steadily hardening cock.</p>
<p>Laurent tipped his head back against Damen, eyes shut as he bit his lip and arched into Damen’s hand, fingers clenched around Damen’s other wrist. He moaned softly as Damen pushed against him, encasing and trapping him in his arms.</p>
<p>Laurent pushed the fingers of his free hand into Damen’s hair, tugging gently on the strands. ‘More,’ he whispered. ‘I want more.’</p>
<p>Damen hummed, dragging his lips down Laurent’s neck and keeping up the steady rhythm of his hand, until Laurent sighed and twisted in his arms, instead kissing him and stopping Damen in his tracks, absorbed by it.</p>
<p>Damen gasped as Laurent’s hand snaked between them, grasping him hard for a moment, before he stepped back and away from Damen, eyes dark, and Damen wasn’t sure if it was anger or lust.</p>
<p>He kind of got his answer as Laurent reached back to turn off the shower, grabbing Damen’s towel from over the shower door and throwing it at him. ‘Move.’</p>
<p>Damen blinked and stepped out of the shower, drying himself off as he went to his room, checking that Laurent was following. He wasn’t totally sure of what was happening right now.</p>
<p>Laurent <em>had </em>followed him, dropping his own damp towel on Damen’s floor as he kicked shut the door and stalked towards him, threading his fingers back into Damen’s hair and claiming his mouth.</p>
<p>Damen was less confused now, responding in kind and grabbing Laurent’s hips to pull their bodies flush together. He gasped in surprise as Laurent pushed him onto his bed, climbing on to straddle him, sliding their dicks together with a gasp of his own.</p>
<p>‘Lube?’ he asked.</p>
<p>‘Everything’s in the top drawer,’ Damen said, gesturing vaguely to his bedside table as Laurent’s weight vanished from him. Damen hadn’t realised his eyes were still closed, until he opened them and looked over to see Laurent rifling through. He pushed himself further up the bed as Laurent tossed the bottle at him.</p>
<p>Laurent got back on the bed and began to prep himself quickly and efficiently.</p>
<p>The dead silence, except for Laurent’s quiet grunts and moans beside him, left Damen with nothing but his thoughts as he stared up at the ceiling. There were a lot of things going through his mind, but Laurent was clearly into this, <em>Damen </em>was into this, even if he was slightly afraid Auguste wouldn’t speak to him ever again. Overall, as two consenting adults, nothing was wrong here, but Damen couldn’t help but think if this was the best idea.</p>
<p>Laurent broke him from his thoughts by slapping a condom on his chest. ‘Hurry up.’</p>
<p>Damen picked it up and ripped the foil to take it out. Naturally, that was when his brain got the better of him. ‘Is this what you want?’</p>
<p>Laurent paused, brow furrowed as he glanced to Damen beside him. ‘Yes, why?’</p>
<p>‘I’m not some like, crisis rebound or something?’</p>
<p>‘Well, I’m going through a small crisis but that’s unrelated to this.’</p>
<p>‘Are you sure?’</p>
<p>Laurent rolled his eyes, leaning over to kiss Damen deeply, pulling back to nip at his lower lip. ‘Yes. Unless you don’t want this.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, no, I definitely want this,’ Damen said, rolling the condom on as if to demonstrate how much he wanted it. ‘Though I’m afraid of what Auguste will say.’</p>
<p>‘Auguste doesn’t need to know,’ Laurent said, squirting lube into his hand and slicking Damen up. ‘Are you good?’</p>
<p>‘I’m – yeah.’</p>
<p>Laurent nodded once, sunk down, and that was it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. bread</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>‘Huh?’<br/>‘You’re <i>friends</i>,’ Auguste grinned. ‘I said you would be!’<br/>‘Who says that’s all?’ Laurent said casually, and Damen felt his heart drop to his ass.<br/>‘What else did you do?’ Auguste asked, immediately on some kind of offensive. ‘Did you shit on my bed?’<br/>‘No,’ Laurent blinked. ‘Love how your mind works, though.’</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>no i will not elaborate on why this chapter is called bread :) thank u</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When it was over, with Damen breathing heavily as Laurent slid off onto the bed, there was a weird sense in the air, like something had started, or maybe something had just changed. Either way, something had <em>definitely</em> changed.</p>
<p>The overarching feeling was one of very slight fear, even with Laurent’s assurances Auguste would never find out. Damen just couldn’t help but think even if Auguste decided to severely injure him, then it still might have been worth it. It was a thought that had him giggling as he glanced to Laurent, dishevelled and gorgeous next to him on the bed.</p>
<p>‘What?’ Laurent asked, sounding slightly amused.</p>
<p>‘Worth it,’ Damen grinned.</p>
<p>A slow smile inched its way across Laurent’s face as he turned back up to the ceiling. ‘You know,’ he said softly, ‘when I said earlier to take me for a ride, this wasn’t entirely what I meant.’</p>
<p>‘Not entirely?’</p>
<p>‘It was a little more subtle than I thought, what with the talk of horses.’</p>
<p>Damen laughed, stretching his arm behind his head. ‘Well, we can do that too.’</p>
<p>‘Maybe not today.’</p>
<p>‘Maybe not today,’ Damen agreed. ‘Can you do me a favour?’</p>
<p>‘Depends,’ Laurent said, looking back to him suspiciously.</p>
<p>‘Next time you want to come onto me, can you do it <em>before </em>I shower?’</p>
<p>‘Why?’ Laurent asked, rolling to his side and tucking a hand under his head.</p>
<p>‘Because now I’m in the same state I was before I went in.’</p>
<p>Laurent eyed him curiously. ‘You had my come on your chest?’</p>
<p>‘Don’t be a smartass,’ Damen said, rolling to sit up, pulling off the condom to drop it in the bin near his bed. ‘I’m having a quick shower. You good or coming with?’</p>
<p>‘Coming again?’ Laurent hummed, even as he stood up off the bed. ‘I could try.’</p>
<p>‘I hope someone has told you you’re not funny.’</p>
<p>‘Actually, I’m hilarious.’</p>
<p>‘Sure,’ Damen opened the shower door and waved him in. ‘After you.’</p>
<p>Laurent rolled his eyes and stepped in.</p>
<p>‘I thought you didn’t like me,’ Damen said, once they’d quickly showered – more like rinsed off – and dressed, and landed back in the living room on the couch.</p>
<p>Laurent was still in Damen’s hoodie, and pushed the sleeves up as he sat cross-legged in the corner seat. ‘I never said I didn’t like you. You just caught me in a few bad moods.’</p>
<p>‘So you do like me?’</p>
<p>‘I never said that either,’ Laurent said, laughing at Damen’s frown. ‘You’re a good person, Damen, even if you are a hockey player.’</p>
<p>‘Wow, thanks, I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere?’</p>
<p>‘Hockey players always used to make fun of me as a kid,’ Laurent explained quietly. ‘They were mean to me because I was smaller and younger, and they were all Auguste’s friends. Also that I did figure skating didn’t really help in their eyes. It’s fine, I’m mostly over it.’</p>
<p>‘Mostly?’</p>
<p>Laurent flicked his eyes over Damen. ‘It’s definitely on the out.’</p>
<p>Damen raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d hope it was completely eradicated.’</p>
<p>‘Ever modest, hmm?’</p>
<p>‘Oh, always,’ Damen winked. ‘Can I ask you something else?’</p>
<p>‘You have a lot of questions. You’re like a toddler,’ Laurent mused.</p>
<p>‘Thanks,’ Damen said drily. ‘But uh, what… is this?’</p>
<p>‘What’s what?’</p>
<p>‘What we just did. What…’</p>
<p>Laurent sighed. ‘What do you want it to be?’</p>
<p>‘I’m… I don’t want to impose anything on you, or pressure you or whatever.’</p>
<p>‘You want to be more,’ Laurent clarified. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’</p>
<p>Damen shrugged. ‘What do you want?’</p>
<p>Laurent studied him for a moment, before he turned away and headed to the kitchen. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, stopping behind the couch. ‘I thought I did, but I don’t.’</p>
<p>Damen nodded. ‘Let me know when you do.’</p>
<p>Laurent smiled a little and nodded. ‘I will. Thank you.’</p>
<p>‘You don’t need to thank me for basic decency.’</p>
<p>‘Apparently I do. What do you have planned for dinner?’</p>
<p>Damen blinked at the abrupt change of topic and climbed over the back of the couch. ‘Hadn’t thought about it.’</p>
<p>Laurent bit his lip a little hesitantly. ‘Do you want to order in and go halves for delivery?’</p>
<p>‘Oh. Sure, if you want. Do you want to wait for –’</p>
<p>‘Auguste can deal,’ Laurent said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and going back to the couch, phone out and already pulling up menus. ‘What do you feel like?’</p>
<p>Damen shrugged and slid back onto the couch. ‘You said you were having a crisis, so I’ll let you pick.’</p>
<p>Laurent smiled, drawing his knees up onto the couch as he flicked through on his phone. ‘How do you feel about Italian?’</p>
<p>‘I’m game.’</p>
<p>Laurent tapped in his order and handed his phone to Damen to do the same. He was handing the phone back when Auguste burst in the door, slamming it shut again dramatically.</p>
<p>‘Hello,’ he greeted.</p>
<p>Damen narrowed his eyes. ‘Hello.’</p>
<p>‘Hello,’ Laurent chimed in.</p>
<p>‘Hello,’ Auguste gave a curt nod and went past them to his room.</p>
<p>Damen turned to Laurent. ‘Ideas?’</p>
<p>Laurent shrugged. ‘Nope. You?’</p>
<p>Damen shrugged as well. ‘Best to leave it, I think.’</p>
<p>‘I think you’re right.’</p>
<p>Damen let out a sigh. ‘Well. Want a drink?’</p>
<p>‘Got my water.’</p>
<p>‘Right.’ Damen didn’t move from the couch. ‘How did you want me to pay you for that food, by the way?’</p>
<p>Laurent waved a hand. ‘You can just get the next one. Fair?’</p>
<p>‘Oh. Sure, that’s fine.’</p>
<p>‘I need to quit my job,’ Auguste announced, appearing dramatically at the doorway, before throwing himself across the room onto the couch beside Damen. ‘I can never go back.’</p>
<p>‘What did you do?’ Damen asked suspiciously. ‘Did you shit your pants again?’</p>
<p>‘Again?’ Laurent repeated interestedly. ‘I haven’t heard this story.’</p>
<p>‘And you <em>won’t</em>,’ Auguste said.</p>
<p>‘It involved a lot of alcohol,’ Damen said, a smile creeping across his face at the memory. ‘I have a video on my phone.’</p>
<p>‘Oh? Does it involve the <em>actual</em> –’</p>
<p>‘We’re not discussing this,’ Auguste interrupted, waving his hands between them. ‘I just – you know, misidentified someone.’</p>
<p>‘You what?’</p>
<p>‘Flirted with the wrong person?’ Damen offered. ‘Slapped someone’s ass? Did you drink someone else’s very specific coffee order?’</p>
<p>‘Kinda, no, no.’</p>
<p>‘Who did you flirt with?’ Laurent asked.</p>
<p>Auguste went red. ‘Look, I was on the phone and very busy and –’</p>
<p>‘And what?’</p>
<p>‘I hadn’t met the person I was in a meeting with yet and I was stupid and only half of my brain was online.’</p>
<p>‘Oh <em>no</em>.’</p>
<p>‘Oh yes.’</p>
<p>‘What am I missing here?’ Damen asked.</p>
<p>‘I asked the person I was meeting with to get me coffee before their boss arrived.’</p>
<p>Laurent laughed. ‘Oh, you fucked up.’</p>
<p>‘Yes!’ Auguste agreed. ‘I did! She looked so offended, I couldn’t apologise enough.’</p>
<p>‘So now you have to quit your job, obviously.’</p>
<p>‘Obviously.’</p>
<p>‘Obviously,’ Damen nodded.</p>
<p>Auguste looked between the two of them in silence for a moment. ‘What did you do?’ he asked.</p>
<p>‘Do what?’</p>
<p>‘You did something.’</p>
<p>‘Auguste, you might need to clarify that,’ Laurent said. ‘I’m sure we’ve done a lot of things today.’</p>
<p>‘We?’ Auguste repeated.</p>
<p>‘We were hanging out today,’ Laurent shrugged. ‘Skating and groceries.’</p>
<p>Auguste narrowed his eyes. ‘Is that all?’</p>
<p>‘Yes?’ Damen said.</p>
<p>‘Lies.’ Auguste looked to Laurent in Damen’s hoodie. ‘You befriended each other, didn’t you?’</p>
<p>‘Huh?’</p>
<p>‘You’re <em>friends</em>,’ Auguste grinned. ‘I said you would be!’</p>
<p>‘Who says that’s all?’ Laurent said casually, and Damen felt his heart drop to his ass.</p>
<p>‘What else did you do?’ Auguste asked, immediately on some kind of offensive. ‘Did you shit on my bed?’</p>
<p>‘No,’ Laurent blinked. ‘Love how your mind works, though.’</p>
<p>‘Well? What is it then?’</p>
<p>‘We ordered dinner,’ Laurent said, waving his phone in the air. ‘Someone called Jeremy is on the way to pick up our order.’</p>
<p>Auguste’s mouth dropped. ‘You <em>bastards</em>. This is the ultimate betrayal.’</p>
<p>‘Is it?’ Damen asked hopefully. ‘That’s the peak betrayal?’</p>
<p>Laurent shot him a look as Auguste nodded seriously. ‘You know it is, Damen. What did you order?’</p>
<p>‘Italian?’</p>
<p>‘From that place by the river?’</p>
<p>‘I think so, yeah.’</p>
<p>‘Damen,’ Auguste whined. ‘Dude, you know I love that thing with the mushrooms!’</p>
<p>‘Good thing I <em>also </em>know you love that thing with the mushrooms,’ Laurent said.</p>
<p>‘Did you order me some?’</p>
<p>‘Of course, I’m not a totally terrible brother.’</p>
<p>‘Debatable. Did you get garlic bread?’</p>
<p>‘…I didn’t get garlic bread.’</p>
<p>‘What the fuck?’ Auguste demanded. ‘Why the hell not?’</p>
<p>‘Because I’m here and I don’t eat bread while I’m in training mode, so you don’t get to eat garlic bread, food of the gods, and torture me with it,’ Laurent shrugged. ‘I got you extra parmesan on your pasta as a compromise.’</p>
<p>Auguste fell backwards into the couch with a loud exhale. ‘Jesus, Laurent. That was a rollercoaster of emotions. You’re the best brother.’</p>
<p>Laurent laughed with his brother for a moment before saying, ‘Also I fucked Damen.’</p>
<p>Damen choked on his drink, looking between Laurent and Auguste, who had stopped laughing and was looking between them as well, like some kind of stand-off.</p>
<p>A slow grin spread over Auguste’s face. ‘Good one!’ he said, shaking a finger at Laurent. ‘He’d never do that.’</p>
<p>‘What makes you think that?’ Laurent asked.</p>
<p>‘You’re too bitchy for him.’</p>
<p>‘Is that the only reason?’</p>
<p>‘He’s too nice for <em>you</em>,’ Auguste said, standing from his chair. ‘Right, how far is food?’</p>
<p>Laurent hummed as he checked his phone. ‘About fifteen minutes?’</p>
<p>‘Cool, I’m going to shower before it gets here. Do <em>not </em>touch my pasta if it arrives early.’</p>
<p>‘Aye aye, captain.’</p>
<p>Damen watched Auguste leave the room and waited for the sound of the shower to start up before he turned and glared at Laurent. ‘Dude, what the fuck?’</p>
<p>Laurent raised an eyebrow. ‘You just had your dick in my ass, please don’t call me <em>dude</em>.’</p>
<p>‘Oh my god, don’t say that <em>out</em> <em>loud</em>,’ Damen groaned. ‘Auguste would –’</p>
<p>‘I didn’t hear an objection when I told him just a few moments ago, did you? He said I was a bitch and you were nice, and that seems like an accurate summary. Nothing else.’</p>
<p>Damen frowned, thinking over Auguste’s words – Laurent was right. He hadn’t explicitly said anything about them. ‘Still. You can’t say that to him again. Let him think it was a joke.’</p>
<p>‘Why?’</p>
<p>‘Call it self-preservation. You’ve told him once, he thinks you were kidding, can it stay at that?’</p>
<p>Laurent rolled his eyes. ‘I suppose. I’m sorry for saying it in the first place after we agreed he didn’t need to know.’</p>
<p>‘Oh,’ Damen nodded. ‘It’s okay. He was probably going to find out anyway.’</p>
<p>Laurent looked down to his phone, speaking softly when he said, ‘Especially if it’s not a one-time thing.’</p>
<p>‘Do you – do you <em>want </em>that again?’</p>
<p>‘You work from home, right?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah?’</p>
<p>‘And I don’t have a job. He’s hardly here during the day. Nothing is stopping us.’</p>
<p>‘You want to go behind his back about this?’ Damen asked. ‘That doesn’t feel…’</p>
<p>‘I swear to god, if you bring anything like <em>ethics </em>into this.’</p>
<p>Damen snapped his mouth shut. It didn’t feel ethical, but he wasn’t going to say that now. ‘Look, I don’t want to do that to Auguste –’</p>
<p>‘You can just say <em>no</em>, Damen.’</p>
<p>‘Shut up, I’m not saying no,’ Damen interrupted. ‘And stop butting in because you think you know where I’m going with things.’</p>
<p>Laurent made a show of closing his mouth, and waved impatiently for Damen to continue.</p>
<p>‘I’m not going to stop doing something because I think Auguste would disapprove. I just don’t know how he would react to finding out you were serious, but that’s not going to stop me because I don’t actually need a roommate so if he wants to kick me out then it’s whatever.’ Damen rubbed his eyes with a sigh. ‘So yes. I’m in. On one condition.’</p>
<p>‘And what is that condition?’</p>
<p>‘If he asks one or both of us <em>seriously </em>about us, then we don’t lie.’</p>
<p>Laurent studied him for a moment. ‘Fine,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t think he’s going to find out.’</p>
<p>‘He’s perceptive, he might.’</p>
<p>Laurent huffed a laugh and shook his head. ‘He’s about as perceptive as a doorknob.’</p>
<p>‘I don’t think that’s true.’</p>
<p>‘It is,’ Laurent said drily, standing up. ‘Food’s here, we can talk later.’</p>
<p>And that was the end of the conversation.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>‘You didn’t tell Auguste about this, did you?’ Laurent asked.</p>
<p>‘Tell him what? That I might’ve found you a new coach?’ Damen pulled open the boot of his car to grab their bags. ‘No, why?’</p>
<p>Laurent took his bag when Damen offered it and swung it over his shoulder. ‘I know I’m difficult to work with, so I don’t want to give him any false hope.’</p>
<p>Damen softened a little, a contrast to the way he slammed the boot shut again. ‘No, I didn’t say anything.’</p>
<p>‘Okay, good. Don’t say anything until it’s confirmed.’</p>
<p>‘I won’t,’ Damen promised, as they started heading to the doors of the rink. ‘How many coaches have you had?’</p>
<p>Laurent laughed. ‘A few more than most people. Torveld had been my coach since I moved to France to train, and… well.’</p>
<p>Damen hummed. ‘Does Auguste know what happened?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>‘Okay.’</p>
<p>Laurent looked at him curiously as he pushed through the door. ‘You’re still not going to ask?’</p>
<p>‘No, it’s not my business. I just wanted to ask because it seems like it was probably quite… <em>traumatic</em>, so I wanted to check you’d talked to someone,’ Damen shrugged. ‘Of course, if you do want to tell me, I’m all ears.’</p>
<p>‘Thanks,’ Laurent said oddly. ‘I’m processing, but I’ll keep it in mind.’</p>
<p>‘Good. Are you nervous to meet my guy?’</p>
<p>Laurent was, and he licked his lips as they headed through the foyer to the ice. ‘No. You said he’d be here, right?’</p>
<p>Damen nodded. ‘He got here about half an hour ago.’</p>
<p>‘Oh.’ Laurent scanned the ice as they stepped through to the benches. He couldn’t see anyone on the ice, but there were a couple of people in the seats. ‘How do you know this guy?’</p>
<p>‘Best friend. He’s on a hockey team, too.’</p>
<p>‘You want a hockey player to coach my <em>figure skating</em>?’ Laurent demanded. ‘No, nope, no thanks –’</p>
<p>Damen grabbed him by the shoulders as he turned to leave. ‘Shut up, he did figure for years. He only plays hockey now because he injured himself too badly to risk the jumps in competition anymore.’</p>
<p>Laurent narrowed his eyes at Damen. ‘You better not be wasting my time.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, like you have any other candidates lining up to coach you?’</p>
<p>‘Rude,’ Laurent muttered, as they came to a stop in front of someone.</p>
<p>Damen kicked them in the leg, and the person startled. ‘Hey, man.’</p>
<p>And then – of <em>all </em>fucking people – Nikandros looked up at them. ‘Oh shit, Laurent?’</p>
<p>Laurent glared small daggers at Damen. ‘Your guy is Nikandros?’</p>
<p>‘You know each other?’ Damen asked.</p>
<p>‘We competed against each other for a couple of years right as I entered the men’s senior syndicate and he was leaving it ,’ Laurent said. ‘How’s the leg?’</p>
<p>Nik grinned. ‘Jumping.’</p>
<p>‘Really?’ Laurent nodded. ‘Congrats. Nasty accident.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, pairs, dude.’</p>
<p>Laurent nodded in agreement. ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve healed up, let’s pretend this didn’t happen.’</p>
<p>‘Laurent, give him a chance,’ Damen said, once again steering him back from leaving.</p>
<p>‘I know this is weird,’ Nik said. ‘I do, trust me, but I know you don’t want to quit, and I don’t know if you’ll find another coach after your performance in the Grand Prix.’</p>
<p>‘Wow, don’t sugar coat it,’ Laurent muttered.</p>
<p>‘Dude, you’re good enough that you deserve the truth. What happened with you and your coach? You split, yeah?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah. There was… something happened.’</p>
<p>Nik nodded. ‘Okay. Well, get your skates on, let’s see what’s going on.’</p>
<p>Laurent let out a very put upon sigh. ‘Fine.’</p>
<p>‘Cool, see you on there. Damen, don’t let him run off.’</p>
<p>‘Copy that,’ Damen nodded, sitting down beside Laurent on the benches. ‘Do you think this could work?’</p>
<p>That was the thing – he’d always gotten along with Nik. They were always friendly behind the scenes, and Nik had somewhat adopted him when he was fresh out of the junior competitions. He made sure people didn’t bully him, and after he had the accident with his partner, getting a huge gash to about a million tendons (more or less) in his leg (or something), Laurent had been sad to see him leave competition. Nik was a beautiful skater, much more graceful than what you’d expect from someone of his stature.</p>
<p>‘Laurent?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ Laurent said slowly. ‘It wouldn’t be the worst.’</p>
<p>Damen smiled. ‘Great. I’ll let you two have a minute on there – Nik’s giving me a look.’</p>
<p>Laurent nodded as he finished lacing his skates and made his way onto the ice, skating towards Nik in the centre. ‘Yeah?’ he asked, coming to a stop.</p>
<p>‘What happened?’ Nik asked quietly. ‘I saw your short in the Grand Prix, and I know you don’t choke near bad enough for the performance you gave in the free.’</p>
<p>Laurent bit his lip. This was <em>Nik</em> – Nik knew what he was capable of, what he’d always been like with his skating. He wouldn’t be able to pull the wool over his eyes, because he was sure he’d figure it out eventually – but he couldn’t do it. ‘I just choked.’</p>
<p>‘Laurent, if –’</p>
<p>‘I choked, Nik,’ he said, leaving no room for argument.</p>
<p>‘Okay,’ Nik said, taking the hint and not pushing it. ‘If you didn’t, you can tell me.’</p>
<p>Laurent glanced to the boards, where Damen was standing and bopping to something on his headphones. ‘That’s what happened.’</p>
<p>‘Right,’ Nik sighed, but he dropped it. ‘Go do a lap or something.’</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Damen spent his time skating in circles – backwards, on one leg, even skidding along on his ass at one point. He watched Laurent and Nik talk and nod at each other between moves and jumps and combinations of them. He left the ice after Nik politely asked him to get off for a moment, and then he watched Laurent run through what must’ve been one of his routines.</p>
<p>By the end of it, Nik was nodding excitedly and grinning, and that was exactly how Damen felt, because <em>fuck</em>, Laurent was so damn good, he felt inadequate even just watching him skate normally.</p>
<p>‘Dude, he’s <em>really </em>good,’ Nik said, coming over to the boards as Laurent finished off a jump. ‘He should never have given that performance in the Grand Prix, because he would’ve won if he’d done it like this.’</p>
<p>‘Really?’</p>
<p>‘Oh definitely.’</p>
<p>Damen smiled as Laurent skated over. ‘So?’ he asked. ‘What’s the verdict?’</p>
<p>Laurent looked to Nik and they turned to Damen together. ‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ Laurent confirmed. ‘I’m back in the game.’</p>
<p>‘Hell yeah!’ Nik grinned, holding his hand out for a fist bump, which Laurent reluctantly gave him. ‘Start tomorrow?’</p>
<p>‘Tomorrow?’ Damen asked. ‘Is that a bit early?’</p>
<p>‘There are other competitions Laurent can still do, if he wants.’</p>
<p>Laurent shook his head. ‘Not this season. I want to drop everything and start fresh next season.’</p>
<p>‘Then no, tomorrow is not too early,’ Nik said to Damen. ‘Fresh start means fresh programs. Got any music in mind?’</p>
<p>‘Not yet.’</p>
<p>‘Okay. Get thinking on it, and we’ll just do general practice for a while rather than routines, yeah?’</p>
<p>Laurent nodded. ‘Sounds good.’</p>
<p>‘Great! In that case, I’ll let you go for today. But back here tomorrow at six sharp.’</p>
<p>‘Sure thing,’ Laurent said taking a few steps to the gate and jumping off the ice. ‘Damen, I’m hungry. Let’s go.’</p>
<p>‘Alrighty,’ Damen grabbed his bag and talked to Nik while he waited for Laurent to get his skates off. ‘Thanks, dude. I’m glad this worked out.’</p>
<p>‘Only so far,’ Nik shrugged. ‘He’s hard work, but I know his results are worth it, and I want to help him achieve what I know he can.’</p>
<p>‘You really think he could win things?’</p>
<p>‘He’s been winning things for years. I want to help him win things he hasn’t won yet. Hey – question?’</p>
<p>‘Yeah?’</p>
<p>‘What’s the deal with you two?’ Nik asked, eyebrow raised suspiciously.</p>
<p>Damen turned and watched Laurent slip the soakers on his skates. ‘Nothing. I just like him.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, I can tell,’ Nik said drily. ‘His brother is August, right?’</p>
<p>‘Auguste,’ Damen corrected. ‘Yeah.’</p>
<p>Nik hummed. ‘He still hot?’</p>
<p>‘I suppose?’</p>
<p>Nik grinned, opening his mouth to say something, before Laurent jumped in with a, ‘Thanks, Nik. See you tomorrow.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, yeah, no problem!’ Nik said. ‘See you later, guys.’</p>
<p>Damen waved to him as they left the rink, holding the door open for Laurent. ‘You said you were hungry, right? What do you want for lunch? We can stop past somewhere on the way home or whatever?’</p>
<p>As they came to a stop at Damen’s car, Laurent murmured, ‘I didn’t say I was hungry for <em>food</em>.’</p>
<p>Damen hummed, giving him a look. ‘Guess we better get home then.’</p>
<p>Laurent nodded. ‘Guess so.’</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>‘Wait,’ Laurent stuck an arm in front of Damen’s chest. ‘Stop.’</p>
<p>Damen frowned. ‘Why?’</p>
<p>‘Subway,’ Laurent pointed to a shop in a small complex on the side of the road. ‘I lied, I’m hungry for food.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, okay,’ Damen turned into the carpark. ‘I could do a sandwich.’</p>
<p>‘You’re not allowed a sandwich. I’m not eating bread, neither are you.’</p>
<p>‘Uh, I’m getting bread. You can have a bit.’</p>
<p>Laurent narrowed his eyes. ‘Fine.’</p>
<p>‘You can’t dictate what I eat, Laurent.’</p>
<p>‘I know,’ Laurent frowned. ‘I just want bread.’</p>
<p>‘Then get bread. One day of bread isn’t going to do anything to you.’</p>
<p>Laurent let out a deep sigh then nodded. ‘Yeah, could do that.’</p>
<p>‘You deserve some bread. You got a new coach today, and that’s progress towards something bigger! Celebrate the small things with <em>bread</em>,’ Damen waggled his eyebrows. ‘Tasty, tasty gluten, baby.’</p>
<p>Laurent pursed his lips, but followed Damen inside and ordered bread at the counter. He did roll his eyes when Damen got a few cookies, but Damen decided not to fight him on that. Laurent stared at his sandwich the entire way back to the apartment, and once there, unwrapped it reverently before taking a bite.</p>
<p>Damen watched him, chomping into his own sandwich as Laurent delicately chewed his with a quiet moan. ‘Enjoying that?’</p>
<p>Once he’d swallowed, Laurent said, ‘I fucking love bread.’</p>
<p>Damen nodded in agreement. ‘Told you it was a good idea.’</p>
<p>‘Oh no, it’s a terrible idea and I’m never listening to you again,’ Laurent said cheerfully. ‘But right now, this bread is my life.’</p>
<p>‘And what am I?’</p>
<p>Laurent looked at him curiously. ‘Are you asking if you’re my life?’</p>
<p>‘No, like, how do I measure up to –’</p>
<p>‘About the same,’ Laurent interrupted, as he held the sandwich a little bit away from himself looking between it and Damen. ‘Yeah, you’re about the same.’</p>
<p>‘<em>Laurent</em>,’ Damen blushed, ‘oh my –’</p>
<p>‘What? It’s not like I’m wrong.’</p>
<p>‘I didn’t say you were! Just like, do you like me more than bread?’</p>
<p>‘Right now, no. But I think I’ll regret having you in my mouth far less than this bread.’</p>
<p>Damen swallowed hard and put the thought from his mind for a moment. ‘So you <em>do </em>like me?’</p>
<p>‘I wouldn’t be fucking you if I didn’t.’</p>
<p>‘You’re not <em>fucking</em> me –’</p>
<p>‘You’re right,’ Laurent nodded. ‘You’re fucking <em>me</em>.’</p>
<p>‘Would you stop interrupting me? We’ve done it <em>once</em>.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, and we’re gonna do it again later and probably continue until either I move out or we get bored.’</p>
<p>Damen didn’t think that would happen. He also didn’t think he should say that. Instead – ‘How much later?’</p>
<p>Laurent glanced up from his food with a sly smile. ‘You’re looking at me like I’m probably looking at this sandwich, so I’m guessing within the next hour or so, max.’</p>
<p>Damen took a deep breath and pushed back from the table. ‘We should hydrate.’</p>
<p>‘Why?’</p>
<p>‘Safety first,’ Damen said, getting them each a bottle of water from the fridge. ‘No one’s gonna be getting dehydrated today.’</p>
<p>‘Hydrate or die-drate?’</p>
<p>‘Exactly.’</p>
<p>Laurent raised an eyebrow. ‘Are we going to be going hard today?’</p>
<p>‘You caught me a little by surprise last time, you haven’t seen anything.’</p>
<p>‘Oh?’</p>
<p>Damen grabbed one of the cookies from the bag and pointed it meaningfully at Laurent. ‘Drink the water.’</p>
<p>Laurent grinned and cracked the lid.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>‘What’s going on here?’ Auguste demanded.</p>
<p>Damen and Laurent looked up from the TV screen and blinked at him. ‘Nothing,’ Damen said. ‘Laurent’s teaching me about figure skating.’</p>
<p>‘Why?’</p>
<p>‘Because we’re like…’ Damen glanced warily to Laurent. ‘Friends?’</p>
<p>Laurent shrugged. ‘We’re friendly.’</p>
<p>‘We’re friendly,’ Damen repeated, looking back to Auguste. ‘It seems like a good idea.’</p>
<p>‘Why?’</p>
<p>‘I got a new coach today. Damen wants to learn things for whatever reason.’</p>
<p>‘So I can hype you up with the correct terminology.’</p>
<p>‘Hype him up?’ Auguste asked. ‘I – why would you..? What?’</p>
<p>‘Until he gets a car, I’m being his taxi service,’ Damen said. ‘I go to the rink, he goes to the rink, he’s training with my friend – why wouldn’t I help out?’</p>
<p>‘Wait, go back a bit,’ Auguste said, waving his hands around. ‘New coach? Who?’</p>
<p>‘You know my friend Nik on one of the other teams?’</p>
<p>‘Nik? Vaguely.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, that’s Nikandros who I used to compete against,’ Laurent said. ‘Remember him?’</p>
<p>‘Nik is Nikandros?’ Auguste groaned. ‘Oh, I remember.’</p>
<p>‘Wasn’t he your sexual awakening? Isn’t that what you said?’ Laurent tilted his head. ‘He’s still…’</p>
<p>‘Hot?’</p>
<p>Laurent hummed in agreement. ‘That’s why Damen’s taking me to training, because you’ll both be horny at each other and I’ll get nothing done.’</p>
<p>‘He’ll be horny at me?’ Auguste asked interestedly. ‘Invite him around for dinner.’</p>
<p>‘Absolutely not.’</p>
<p>‘Laurent, I can’t have my little brother training with a <em>stranger</em>.’</p>
<p>‘He’s not a stranger. You know exactly who he is, and you want to fuck him.’</p>
<p>‘Well, I do now you’ve put the idea in my head!’</p>
<p>‘I’m not inviting him to dinner.’</p>
<p>Auguste pouted. ‘Damen? He’s your friend, right?’</p>
<p>‘Oh no,’ Laurent said, spinning back to Damen. ‘Don’t you dare.’</p>
<p>‘I like Nik, though,’ Damen frowned. ‘Surely we can keep them apart.’</p>
<p>‘I doubt it.’</p>
<p>‘Laurent, at the very least, I need to thank him for taking you on,’ Auguste said. ‘I promise to try not to fuck him.’</p>
<p>‘Promising to try isn’t the same as promising not to,’ Laurent said, narrowing his eyes at him. ‘Promise not to, and I’ll invite him over.’</p>
<p>‘Fine, I promise not to.’</p>
<p>‘That’s not convincing.’ Laurent sighed. ‘But fine.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>beep boop stay in the loop by following me on <a href="http://twitter.com/daamiaanos">twitter</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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